


Art Therapy

by Severina



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Community: tv-universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, anything that calms these chumps down I'm all for," Sean says. "But these dinks wouldn't know the Mona Lisa from Old Mother Hubbard."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Fic 02 of 03 written for tv_universe's 3TP relationship challenge on LJ, for the prompt 'friends'
> 
> * * *

"Art therapy?" Sean says. He cocks a brow, leans his elbows on the railing. "Really, Tim?"

"Experts say that expressing yourself through art has a soothing effect on the psyche," Tim says. "And violent tendencies that may previously be directed outward, say by beating the shit out of somebody, are instead directed onto the canvas. The most recent study indicated a forty-three percent decrease in aggression among members of the program. Experts say--"

"Any of those experts ever work in a max security prison?" Sean asks skeptically.

Tim turns toward him, and if Sean had to put an artsy-fartsy name to the face he'd call it Early Onset Constipation. "I need your support here, Sean. You think I didn't get enough flack from Glynn over this?"

"Hey, anything that calms these chumps down I'm all for," Sean says. "But these dinks wouldn't know the Mona Lisa from Old Mother Hubbard."

Tim scowls before his attention is distracted by movement down below. "Hey! O'Reily!" he shouts. "Put that apple down, that's your damn assignment!"

"What the fuck, we're supposed to draw a bowl of fruit?" Ryan yells back. "That's bullshit!"

"Yeah, McManus, where's the nude model?" Pancamo puts in.

"I'll get Mr. Leather for you next week, Pancamo," Tim says. He shakes his head at Pancamo's gesture in response, and Sean straightens at the railing when Tim leans in to him. "Listen," he says, "I know it'll take some time. Nobody likes change. But I've got a really good feeling about this."

Sean glares down at LoPresti and Maxwell setting up the easels. This is a recipe for disaster. He knows it, Glynn knows it, every tense-shouldered hack on the floor knows it. But Tim McManus is not only his boss but also his best friend, so he does his best to wipe away the frown and plaster on something that feels remotely optimistic. He has a feeling it might be more of a grimace than a smile.

"Sure," Sean says, clapping Tim on the shoulder. "What could go wrong?"

* * *

It takes two hours to remove the paint brush from Escovar's ear, and his hearing is never the same.

* * *

Sean finds Tim ripping the 'artwork' into tiny pieces in the garbage room, muttering and scowling. Tim's hands are streaked with red and green paint by the time Sean convinces him to head out for a few drinks, and Sean treats him to half a dozen beers and an equal number of shooters before he's finally able to maneuver him out of the bar and back to his apartment. Tim weaves and protests but finally falls down drunk in his bed, and Sean tucks him in before grabbing a blanket and bunking down on his own sofa.

He grins up at the stucco ceiling, listens to Tim snoring loudly in the next room. Wonders if this'll be the failure that wipes the sheen off Tim's eyes for good.

Then he grins and rolls over onto his side. 

Nah. Not a chance.


End file.
